Timothy James Turnipseed
Timothy was raised on a farm in rural Mississippi. His experiences have since taken him all around the world. He now teaches at local university, where he urges his Students to Run the Race, Keep the faith, and Endure to the End
Old Sammy's Island
“Gurk!” How he despised that wretched sound. Lying abed in the dark next to his loudly snoring wife, he’d discovered the one sound he just couldn’t get used to. The lapping waves, the splashing… fish? Alligators? Even the relentless chorus of crickets and frogs he’d learned to endure.
The Kabul I Knew
Thomas Wolfe said, “You Can’t Go Home Again”. Most of us are biased toward happy memories, because unhappy ones make us sad, and who wants to be sad? But things change, including you, so any place you remember after an extended absence simply cannot be the same place when you return thereunto. Thus, you can’t go home again. And me, I can’t go to Kabul again. Yes, that Kabul. Afghanistan.
Before She Takes
“They’re hunting us.” The man spoke into a little fire crackling in a shallow hole circled by crumbling old bricks. The flames barely illuminated the cavernous interior of an old barn, timbers groaning in the gusts of a storm raging just beyond the clattering walls. Part of the loft had collapsed into ground level, still laden with the heaps of snow that had overburdened it. As flames danced in the black gloom, they also revealed three who sat around the fire in a corner stall.
Before She Saves
“They’re going to kill us.” The woman speaking stood in a short corridor lit by gray sun shining in from windows to her left. Before her was a wooden door, and to her right was a log cabin wall. Behind her was a door slathered with gold paint. A large Peace symbol composed from many pieces of brightly colored glass was glued to that door.
Before She Kidnaps
“I got your gun! Now I give the orders!” Both the woman and the much larger man stood in a darkened, windowless room, lit only by wan firelight flickering in from some unseen exterior source. It was chilly, but not near as deathly cold as outside; a fact to which the female could well attest.
Before She Joins
“I’m not going to make it, am I?” Her words billowed into the frosty air like smoke, as if there were a fire in her belly. She could feel the beanie down to her ears, and the heavy, vintage leather aviator jacket that was way too big for her. The soft acrylic of the beanie and the jacket’s fluffy sheep fur lining were keeping her alive, if not comfortable. The knees of her faded jeans were holed by wear, not fashion. Sadly, she wore no gloves, and naught on her feet but sneakers.
Before She Hangs
“Tomorrow you hang. That’s a promise. And I always keep my promises.” Mist like dragon’s breath billowed from the man’s mouth with every pitiless word, wreathing about his magnificent cowboy hat. He was a big fellow in a vintage leather aviator jacket, its fluffy sheep fur lining exposed by the fashionably opened collar. He also wore denim jeans and strode confidently in arctic boots. A military backpack – a rucksack – was on his back. A rifle was slung on his shoulder, and he bore a large handgun in a holster strapped to his thigh. In one of his leather-gloved hands he kept the rifle steady on his shoulder. In the other he held a rope…
Coach Kate's Gambit
“I can taste fish already,” the boy panted as he and two others stalked through the woods in the night, clutching their precious poles and buckets. “Ain’t had nuthin’ since breakfast, and that was just a bowl of mush. So sick of freaking cornmeal mush for breakfast, lunch and din…”